


Smoke

by mos



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 16:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6431593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mos/pseuds/mos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-3x09 angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smoke

They could smell the smoke from miles away, and Marcus felt a crushing weight upon his chest that grew as the scent of the smoke did, and became unbearable when the first sight of it rose above the treetops. He stopped then, the kids and filing past him, casting him understanding glances. Sinclair paused by his side, reaching out to squeeze his forearm.

"My wife was in there, too," he said quietly. "Come on. We have to do this."

Marcus nodded, swallowing back the painful lump in his throat, moving towards the death and destruction that lay before them. What hope was there, though? Abby was strong, but there had been sick and dying people inside Arkadia. She wouldn't have left them. She wouldn't have been able to fight the warriors who stormed the gates. She was a healer, her hands designed for comfort and sympathy, not for grasping weapons and killing.

A sob escaped him as they cleared the treeline, the scent of the smoke overpowering. _Blood has had blood._ Arkadia had been razed to the ground, leaving nothing but scorched earth and piles of rubble. The weight in Marcus's chest grew so heavy, so painful that he fell to his knees, gasping against it.

She would have died trying to save people. That much he knew.

"Kane," Octavia said, grabbing his arm. He allowed himself to be hauled to his feet again. Forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. Moved forward.

The kids were so much braver than he was, forging ahead, spreading out as they moved into what was left of the camp. The ground beneath Marcus's boots was still warm as he stepped into the ash. The smoke was unbearable, scorching his lungs, and he breathed deeply, half hoping that he'd choke on it. Anything but the crushing pain of losing the woman he loved.

There were bodies. Some burned beyond recognition, others not. Marcus forced himself to look at each one, terrified that he'd see her, needing confirmation but at the same time not wanting to remember her as a burned and broken thing.

In the back of his mind, he knew she wouldn't be outside the station, though. She'd have been inside, tending to the injured. She'd have done it to the last, even as her vision darkened and the guard couldn't keep the invaders back anymore and the smoke choked the air from her lungs. The walls inside the station were black with it. There were bodies in the hallways, in the rooms, hiding under beds and behind doors. Slaughtered, or dead from smoke. Children in their parents' arms.

Marcus made it to the medical wing and couldn't make his feet move past the door. Maybe he would have stayed there forever if Bellamy hadn't emerged, eyes wide and wet with tears.

"Abby?" Marcus managed, the name, the question squeezing his heart. It felt like all the air had left his lungs.

Bellamy shook his head, reaching out to grasp Marcus's shoulder. "She's not there."

He nodded, and Bellamy moved on. He forced himself into the medical bay, seeing the dead patients laid out on cots and on the floor, Abby's ministrations clear as day to him. Bandaged wounds. Cold compresses. Hastily done stitches. Tears fell down his cheeks. He couldn't bring himself to leave the place she had been.

They came for him sometime later, saying something about the hatch in the dormitory floor. A survivor. Escape. Mines. Marcus's head spun, and he silently followed the others out of the blackened station, back into the clear, cool air of the forest. Into the mines.

It was cold and dark, Octavia leading the way with a torch in hand. At the first hint of voices, somewhere far ahead, Marcus lifted his gaze, the hope that unwillingly sprung to his chest even more painful than the thought of Abby's death. The voices grew louder, and then they were stopped by a light and guns. David Miller and Harper stood guarding the shaft, lowering their guns when they recognized Marcus and the others.

"It's good to see you," David said, as Marcus filed past with the others. His eyes looked like they'd seen too much.

"Abby?" Marcus asked. There were so many people ahead, cluttering the corridor, and he couldn't see her. _Please_ , he found himself silently begging. _Please_.

"At the end," David said, giving him a reassuring smile.

Heart pounding, Marcus moved forward, eyes searching for her as he moved past the other survivors. And then finally there she was, at the end of the chamber, alone, sitting on a little boulder, tears falling down her cheeks. All the breath rushed out of him at once as relief crashed through him, and then he was racing toward her, falling to his knees in front of her, tears running down his own cheeks, too.

There was a rag in her blood-covered hands, and she was dabbing at a gash on her forehead, the blood oozing out and running down her face. She was sobbing quietly, her eyes downcast, not seeming to see him or know he was there at all until he reached up and gently touched her shaking hand. She jerked and raised her head, blinking rapidly.

"Abby," he breathed. He'd heard things, about a chip in her brain and Jaha... she looked so broken.

"Marcus?" Her voice was hoarse. There was soot on her face. The tears and blood made tracks through it.

"I'm here."

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. "I killed one of them. He was blocking the hatch and we had to get out. I killed him."

"Abby, it's okay."

"This is his blood," she babbled, dabbing at the cut on her forehead again. "I cut his throat and it got everywhere. Just poured out. All over my hands-"

"Abby, stop," he said gently.

"I can do it!" she snapped, as he gently grasped her hand and stilled it, prying the cloth from her fingers and setting it aside.

"I know you can."

"I'm the doctor, not you." Her jaw was set but tears were still spilling from her eyes.

"I know," he replied. "I also know that you shouldn't be cleaning a wound with dirty hands."

She looked down at her hands as he took one, tears landing on the dried blood that he dutifully set about cleaning off with the hem of his shirt. She sat silently as he worked, not moving even when he went to fetch some water, her hands limp in his as he washed the dead and the wounded clean from them. Then, with the rag and water, he carefully washed her face, and then the cut, which by then had stopped bleeding. Her eyes were on him the entire time, crying silently.

"Are you really here?" she asked. She sounded so hopeful.

"I'm here."

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing, and he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his own arms around her as she wound herself around him, legs around his waist, arms around his neck, face buried in the space between his neck and shoulder. She smelled like blood and ash, but she was whole and alive in his arms, and at that moment, he'd have rather died than let her go again. He closed his eyes, holding her as she wept, until her sobs petered out and turned to hiccups and his knees and feet were numb from kneeling on the hard ground.

Finally, she pulled back and looked at him, hands moving to rest on either side of his face. She swallowed. "Clarke?"

"Is the new commander," he replied. "She couldn't stop the army in time."

"I thought she was dead. I thought you were dead."

A lump formed in his throat again. He could have told her that he thought she'd been slaughtered and turned to ashes in Arkadia, but he didn't. He forced a smile instead. "I'm here. I'm never leaving you again."

Then she was kissing him, slow and sweet, and then desperately. The tightness in his chest loosened, and for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to hope. No more AIs. No more war. No more death and destruction. Just him and Abby and all the time in the world.

"Where do we go, Marcus?" she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "Arkadia is gone. It's a graveyard now."

"Abby," he said, savouring the sound of her name on his lips, "have you ever seen the ocean?"

**Author's Note:**

> AND THEN THEY GO AND LIVE IN AN OLD BOAT OR A CABIN BY THE OCEAN HAVE BABIES AND VISIT CLARKE EVERY WEEKEND BYE


End file.
